


Multi-fandom Advent Calendar 2016

by redgoldblue



Series: Advent Calendars [4]
Category: Class (TV 2016), Elementary (TV), Gilmore Girls, Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Hawaii Five-0 (2010), House M.D., Star Trek: The Original Series, Torchwood
Genre: Babysitting, Captain Jack Harkness being his usual overly innuendo-filled self, Character Study, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Gen, Kinda, M/M, Pranks, Snow, a surprisingly large amount of gen this year, also an attempt at some sickeningly heartwarming stuff, another ultimate weakness is Steve being a father to Grace, fwp (fluff without plot), getting them together, i guess, kinda relationship study through character, luke being a father to rory is one of my ultimate weaknesses, okay the 16th is actually a character study, teasing by the entire crew is more accurate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-03 18:52:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 12,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8726266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redgoldblue/pseuds/redgoldblue
Summary: Ficlets for every day until Christmas. Generally fluffy, but occasionally I'll spring angst on you. Consider yourself warned.





	1. Shenaniganless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As per tradition, we have a fluffy peaceful gen Star Trek fic to kick us off. Apologies for not posting yesterday, I had an essay due.

“Are you sure this is alright?” Ambassador Sh’Kar asked one last time. “I know that babysitting isn’t exactly something the crew of the _Enterprise_ would usually be tasked with, and if this hadn’t been so sudden, she would have been left with one of her other parents…”

Jim shook his head at her. “It’s fine, Ambassador. We’ll make sure there’s no shenanigans. Right, Tuval?”

The toddler in his arms stuck her chin out at him and he grinned at her.

Sh’Kar nodded and gave him a small smile, then waved at her daughter. “Bye, zhei-zhei. I’ll be back tonight.”

She blinked and wiggled her fingers at her.

“Energise.”

 

Sulu hoisted Tuval up onto his hip and pointed at the light blue vine hanging down from a pot on a shelf near the ceiling. “And that’s a hrunckal plant from Ghaal 2.”

She grasped for it, held it gently for a minute and stared at it, then brought it up to her face and looked at Uhura, sitting at the table in the small greenhouse and watching as the second babysitter on first shift. Uhura laughed. “Yes, it does look like you.” She smiled over her head at Sulu, who looked wistful. Tuval let the hrunckal go and bent her head up to look at Sulu’s face, and gently patted his cheek. He snapped out of his head and smiled down at her, then moved to the next plant, a sturdy green creeper dotted with small red flowers. “This is a shalla. They’re my daughter’s favourite.”

She smiled at it, and the com beeped. Sulu moved down to it. “Lieutenant Sulu.”

“Sulu, is Uhura there? We need her to check something here on the bridge,” Jim’s voice rang out.

Uhura walked over to them. “I’m here, Captain. Should I call someone else to stay here with Tuval and Hikaru?”

“No, just bring them with you if that’s okay, we won’t keep you for long.”

Sulu nodded at Uhura. “We’re coming, Captain.”

 

Tuval took in the bridge from where Sulu was holding her near the turbolift, then her eyes widened and fixed on the viewscreen, currently displaying the blue and red planet and the stars surrounding it. Jim got up and went over to them. “What did she think of the greenhouse?”

“She liked it, but not as much as she likes the view of space, apparently.”

Jim smiled at her. “My kind of kid. She’s going to Scotty and Lt. Denvers next, right?”

Sulu nodded at him as Uhura came back over. “All fixed,” she proclaimed. “Shall we take her down to Engineering, Ru?”

Tuval stared at the viewscreen until the turbolift doors closed.

 

Scotty carefully held Tuval to him as he climbed down the ladder separating the two levels of Engineering, then handed her to Denvers. “I’ve just gotta check on Ensign Craakher over there, keep an eye on her for a sec, would you?”

“Sure, Commander.”

As soon as Scotty had left, Tuval got a determined expression and started wriggling. “Oh, do you want to go down? Hang on, let me get clear of all the delicate controls, sweetheart.”

She took a deep breath, then as soon as she was put down, ran surprisingly fast for the door, almost colliding with the legs of the lieutenant coming in. Denvers ran after her, but Tuval swerved around a corner and ran into the turbolift just as she reached the corner. The tiny Andorian screwed her face up in concentration and carefully enunciated, “Br-id-ge.” The doors closed and Denvers shrugged and leant against the corridor wall waiting for it come back down.

 

By the time Denvers got to the bridge, Tuval had made her way onto the captain’s lap and was again transfixed by the view in front of her. “I’m sorry, Captain,” she started as she walked onto the bridge. “She’s obviously been planning this, as soon as I put her down she was gone. I’ll take her back now-”

Jim waved a hand at her. “It’s fine. She obviously just wants to watch the stars, she can stay here.”

“Captain…” Spock started warningly from his station.

Jim grinned at him. “It’ll be fine, Spock. She’s not going to cause any trouble here, and we’re just waiting for the ambassador to come back, there’s no tasks for her to disrupt anyway.”

Spock raised an eyebrow in a ‘your funeral’ expression he would never admit came directly from McCoy, but walked over to stand besides Jim and nodded at Denvers regardless. “Understood, Captain. I’ll tell Commander Scott,” she said and left. Tuval did indeed stay transfixed by the viewscreen until Jim took her to a rec room for dinner, and for once they were left without any disasters for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Demora are retroactively TOS canon and anyone who says otherwise can Fight Me


	2. First Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> look I know the first one was 800 words and this is like 1000 when they're usually 3-400, but don't expect this length to be maintained, I'm pretty sure it's just a weird fluke

“My first memory is of my mother betraying me.”

Rory laughed from where she was sitting across the small room with her legs slung over the arm of the chair. Luke leant pointedly into Lorelai's side and mildly reprimanded, “Don't be melodramatic.”

She tugged on the arm he had resting over her shoulder and turned her head to smile at him. “But you love it when I'm melodramatic.”

He smiled back at her and didn't bother to deny it.

“Okay, but seriously, Mum, what is your first memory?” Rory brought them back to the topic at hand.

“ _Seriously_ , it's of Emily betraying me. I was about three, and she decided to dress me up in this disgustingly frilly pink concoction, like that was high-class, and get someone to take a picture of me.”

“Where is it? I have a desperate need.”

Luke made a noise of agreement.

“It no longer exists, and I thank God, Jesus, and Young Me for that every day. What about you, Rory?”

She frowned, trying to remember.

“Is it of me?” Lorelai powered on when presented with no reply. “Of course it's of me. What am I doing, is the real question. Am I laughing? Feeding you? Am I talking?”

“Almost certainly,” Luke muttered good-naturedly under his breath.

“Excuse me, mister, just because you use three words every two hours.”

“Uh, it's of someone holding me, I think,” Rory interrupted.

“Me?”

“No, not you, it's a guy.”

Lorelai snorted. “Great, now I'm betrayed by every man who was around when my daughter was a baby. Which is not that many, actually. Is it Kirk?”

“Ugh. No. Dad, maybe? It might be Dad. Or... no, it's you, Luke!”

Luke's face split into a warm smile. “Really?”

“Yeah, I'm, like, 2 or 3, and we're in the diner. I think I'd been crying?”

“I remember that,” Luke hummed. “You were both there, but then Taylor was beckoning madly at Lorelai from outside, so she left you with me, sitting up on the stool, holding my hands across the counter-“

“Oh, yes!” Lorelai interrupted. “You panicked at me the whole way out the door that you didn't know what to do with a two-year-old.”

“I didn't! As was proven when I said something you thought was hilarious, Rory, and you let go of my hands and fell backwards.”

“He completely panicked,” Lorelai picked up. “Miss Patty panicked. I panicked despite not having witnessed the event. The horse owned by the richest guy two towns over panicked. At least if you believed Luke.”

“Well, both Miss Patty and me did panic. You weren't crying and I couldn't see you immediately, so I don't think it was unreasonable to.”

Rory frowned. “It doesn't seem entirely safe to have left a two-year-old on one of those stools anyway, why was I up there?”

Lorelai mirrored her daughter's expression. “Actually, I don't know. Even if I'd put you up there in the first place I would have assumed Luke'd see you and shriek into my ear like a banshee whilst removing you.”

“No, Lorelai had tried to get you to sit on her lap or on the counter - not that I would've let a two-year-old on the counter anyway - but you categorically refused to sit anywhere but in the same way she was sitting. You didn't throw a tantrum, you weren't that kind of kid, thank god, but you just stood there with your arms up to get lifted and a really stubborn look until she relented and agreed as long as you were holding her hand. Which then turned into my hands.”

“Which then failed. You weren't up there again until your feet could touch the second rail and you had a firm centre of gravity.”

“Okay, sure. On with the story!”

“Well, you fell, everyone panicked. Luke got to you first somehow, despite being around the counter and Miss Patty being at the table nearest to you-“

“She wasn't at the table nearest-“

“Shhh, if you don't embellish it slightly what's the point? Miss Patty was at the table nearest, Luke was behind the counter, he reached you first. Possibly his first display of Super-dad skills.”

“Sure. Anyway, I crouched down to see if you were alright, and you stared at me with really big eyes like you were trying not to cry, I asked you where it hurt. You waved at your shoulders and your legs-“

“Which Miss Patty said was what you fell on - your arms and your legs - when she came out to get me then. That was when she started trying to convince me to sign you up for gymnastics, because apparently you'd 'landed perfectly'.”

“I figured the way you landed meant it was safe to move you, so I picked you up and put you on the counter to check if you had a concussion - you didn't –“

“But that was when I turned around and freaked out because Luke was holding two fingers up in front of your then-tiny face looking really worried and I couldn't hear what either of you were saying. So I rushed back in-“

“Just as I picked you up again and you started crying. Into my shoulder. It was kinda a relief honestly, I felt like you should have cried before. I tried to give you to Lorelai when she came in, but-“

“You refused to be transferred, which while adorable in hindsight just led to me freaking out even more at the time.”

“She let go eventually.”

“Yes, obviously, or you'd still be carrying around a now-fully-grown barnacle. Still freaked me out though.”

“That’s sweet. I appreciate my first memory. What about you, Luke?”

“Hmm?”

“What's your earliest memory?”

“Oh, nowhere near as interesting. Repainting my old bassinet with Dad for Liz. Well, I say with Dad, more like he was attempting to repaint it and I was trying to paint the wall and dipping my fingers in the paint and generally being annoying.”

Lorelai poked his shoulder. “Nooo. What? That's adorable.”

“Yeah, it is, Luke.”

Luke smiled. “Well, so was yours, so obviously Lorelai's just been left out in the rain on this one.”

Lorelai put her hands to her heart. “Excuse me? I cannot help it if my mother is the devil incarnate and not a perfect angel like Rory's.”

“Sure.”


	3. Rachel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorrysorrysorry I did start writing this last night but yesterday was hectic man, and we had Christmas lunch with my aunt today. I probably won't be getting up to date today, but hopefully tomorrow. For context, this is set a little ways into Season 2, so after Rachel and Danny's affair had ended and they'd reconciled, but before everyone and their dolphin knew and accepted Steve as Danny's MIA (Most Important Adult)

Rachel stared into Danny’s hospital room. She raked an eye over the myriad of machines connected to Danny, assessing the displays of information, then sighed and redirected her gaze to his still body. She wondered when she’d gotten so good at reading medical equipment. She supposed she’d always known this was what was going to come of being married to a cop, no matter that the marriage was over. It had still been a shock the first time it happened, a year and a half into their relationship. He’d been stabbed in the arm on duty, it had been nothing, he’d been released from hospital the next day, but that hadn’t stopped the rising terror she’d felt when she’d been called.

 

It had only gotten worse after Grace, when every time he got even a minor injury she couldn’t stop herself contemplating the prospect of not only losing a husband, but of her daughter losing a father. The first time it happened after the split, she was shocked – more shocked than she should have been - to discover just how shattering it still was. Of course she had still been frightened for Grace, but her care for Danny had been lost under months of angry wounds until injury brought it all surging to the surface. She was fairly certain he’d had no idea either, if the shock on his face when he woke up with her there had been any indication. He had been grateful though, and she was actually fairly certain that was when the awful gaping rift between them started to close.

 

If she’d known how much more frequent moving to Hawaii would make these occurrences, she would have protested. But she knew that the move had helped Danny to heal – in fact the exact same thing that caused her burgeoning familiarity with the nurses at King’s Medical Center had. Speaking of which…

 

She turned away from the grim view behind the window to face a rapidly advancing Steve McGarrett, and the nurse walking behind him attempting to inform him of Danny’s situation. When he reached the window the nurse managed to insert herself between Steven and the door, tell him off for not listening to her earlier, and give him a quick rundown. She then glared at him until he looked suitably chastened, then snorted and walked off with a warning not to wake Danny up. Steve then noticed Rachel standing directly next to him, and turned to her, ripping his gaze off Danny.

“Hi, Rachel. Is he…?”

“He’ll be fine,” she assured, knowing he needed to hear it from someone personal. They both stood there for another few minutes, staring in and thinking. At some point, Steve reached out and gently squeezed her hand. Eventually she took a deep breath and turned to him. “I have to go pick up Grace. I’ll bring her back here in a little while.”

“Oh. I could get her, if you want?” Steve offered reluctantly.

“No, it’s fine.” She smiled at him. “He’d want you to be there when he wakes up.” She would never wish the role she’d occupied for so long on someone else, and she would never stop caring, but it was still a relief to finally cede her rights to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is closer to a normal length


	4. Puce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey Basil, your puce prompt finally got filled, like a year and a half after the fact

 

“We are _not_ painting the baby’s bedroom puce!”

“Why not?” Steve protested. “It’s a neutral, calming colour. It’s not bright, so it won’t disturb their sleep, but it’s not so deep that it will absorb all the light.”

Danny glowered mildly. “Don’t try to confuse me with rational arguments. There is no way that I’m going to have to reply to people asking me ‘oh, so what colour is your baby’s room?’ with ‘puce’!”

Steve frowned at him. “How many people do you think are going to ask you that?”

“Not the point. Once would be enough to permanently traumatise me. Even more than the process of raising a baby with you, the adrenaline addict, is going to already. I refuse. It’s not happening.”

“You can’t just censor a colour because of its name!”

Grace pushed herself off the shelf she’d leant on to wait as soon as Steve had suggested puce. “I’m actually with Danno on this, Steve. But you’re blocking up the paint aisle here.” She took Danny’s right arm and Steve’s left and steered them down the aisle slightly. “How about we pick out the crib colours first?”

Steve brought his arm up around her shoulders. “You’re painting it, you get to choose them.”

“Yeah, but you two are going to see it every day, you can pick the base colour at least.”

He smiled at her, then turned to Danny. “Okay, can we manage to agree on this quickly?”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” he grumbled, but turned to the rack and started picking out paint cards.

“Cool colours?” Steve suggested.

“Sounds good.” He propped the collection of blue, green, and purple cards up in front of the racks. “I like, uh,” he leant in to read the name on the card. “Ocean Mist. Really? It’s light blue. Just call it light blue.”

“Uncle Steve?”

“Ocean Mist’s good.”

Grace picked up the card and Danny started to replace the others. “Cool, I’ll do birds and clouds. Now we actually have to pick out the room colour, guys.”

“It’s not puce. It’s not happening.”

Steve sighed. “They’re not calling it puce anyway, they’re calling it – Raspberry Tart. You can call it red-brown if you want. Or Raspberry Tart.”

“No, you need to accept that our child’s bedroom is not going to be puce, red-brown or Raspberry Tart.”

Steve raised his hands in defeat. “Alright, fine. Not puce. I can move past puce, I can do that. Puce is not essential to my life.”

“Please stop saying puce,” Grace begged.

He laughed. “Okay, what about deep purples? Roasted Aubergine?”

Danny groaned. “Oh god. As long as you promise never to call it Roasted Aubergine again. Or read any other colour names to me.”

“What do you think, Grace?”

“Yeah, Roasted Aubergine is nice,” she said, laughing at Danny’s tortured noises as she collected more sample cards.

 

“Hey, Danno,” Grace said as they walked out of the store.

“Yeah, monkey?”

“What would you call this colour?”

“Turquoise?”

“Really? Because they call it Proud Peacock.”

Steve guffawed.

“No. No, don’t. I’m begging you,” Danny entreated.

“Hey, there were no prohibitions on me reading them. This, for instance, is a lovely shade of Lemon Drizzle.”

He buried his head in his hands.

“Well, perhaps you’d prefer a classic Sumptuous Plum? Or a Found Fossil? A Coastal Glow? No? Intense Chestnut? Evening Barley?”

“Oh lord, free me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those paint names at the end are all real, by the way. Thank Duplex.


	5. Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> House is a drama queen and I love him

House ducked back into the room, putting his phone in his pocket. “That was Dr. Cuddy,” he said to Wilson. “I’ve got a job, I just need to go-”

He was interrupted by Wilson whooping and grabbing his hand. He bit back a laugh as Wilson spun into him. “Not keen on the dancing, James.”

Wilson backed away slightly to look at him. “Hey, I got you to get a job which means you’re going to see me basically every day, I can get you to dance.”

“You did, didn’t you,” House murmured. Wilson tugged on his hand again, and House rearranged them into waltz positions, and led Wilson into a fast waltz, smiling at him almost on autopilot.

“Close enough,” the younger man assented.

Somehow, House’s brain had failed to process what this job would mean for his desperate attempts to avoid letting Wilson know he’d fallen in love with him about a week after they met. Not to mention the aching in his chest whenever he started to consider it. He was only maintaining a façade – and a working heart – as it was by a scarcity of visits and an abundance of distractions. But that wasn’t going to work anymore. He supposed he had no options really but to deal. Somehow. And focus on the joy in the conflicting equation of emotions at getting to see him.

Wilson tapped on his shoulder. “Hey, House. Where are you? Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts about the job.”

House stared down at him. “No, quite apart from anything else, I really need a job by now.”

He was pleasantly surprised by how steady his voice sounded. He could feel every place they were touching as if Wilson were burning up. He pulled away and took a step back. Wilson put a hand on his shoulder and looked at him with a worried expression. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Hey.” He pulled House’s hands onto his hips. “You’re not looking very celebratory.” He put a hand on House’s chin and pulled his face down to him, then leant up and gently kissed him. House froze. Wilson pulled back and smiled gently at him. “More celebratory?”

House blinked twice, then pulled Wilson back to him and desperately kissed back. When he finally pulled away for air, Wilson grinned at him. “I’m gonna take that as a yes.”

“Yes.”


	6. Sweatshirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is probably going to be a fuckton of H50 this year, so I apologise to those of you not in the fandom, and do fingerguns at those of you who are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't even realise I had two separate prompts in my list this year that centered around Danny being in hospital and I don't know what to make of that

Steve heaved himself up from the couch and answered the knock at the door.

“Hi, Steve,” Rachel greeted him. “Grace just forgot her phone, she’s getting it from the car. Here are her things.” She handed him Grace’s orange duffel bag, and he slung it over his shoulder. “Thankyou for having her, if we could have postponed this trip until Daniel was discharged, we would have.”

“No, it’s fine, I’m happy to have company right now.” He smiled fondly. “The house feels really empty somehow.”

She peered at him. “You do look rather haggard.”

Grace ran up the path holding her phone, and hugged Steve hard. “Hi, Uncle Steve.”

He winced slightly as his injured ribs panged, but closed his eyes and held her tightly, then reluctantly stepped back as Rachel cleared her throat. She hugged Grace goodbye, then nodded at Steve. He closed the door behind her and turned to Grace. “Let me take your stuff up, and then we can have dinner and figure out when we want to go see Danny.”

She nodded and wandered into the kitchen to start chopping the vegetables Steve had laid out.

 

Steve walked back into the kitchen after his morning swim, putting the coffee machine on and pulling a pan down from the cupboard on autopilot before going upstairs to get a new shirt, his own having got summarily soaked by the sudden rainstorm. He walked in on Grace closing his cupboard door with one of his old Navy sweatshirts in one hand. “Sorry, Uncle Steve,” she apologised once she saw him. “I didn’t bring any warm clothes, and, I mean, I’m not really cold but…”

“It’s fine, Gracie.”

She sat down on his bed and pulled it on, then sighed. “I never used to get this stressed when Danno was in hospital. I think I thought he was invincible when I was little, so I didn’t get worried when he was hurt. But now, even though I know he’s getting discharged in a couple of days…”

Steve sat down next to her and hugged her sideways. “This jumper smells like Danny,” he commented.

“Yeah, that’s why I got this one.”

“He’s fine.” He pulled her into his side.

She laid her head on his shoulder. “I know.”

“You wanna go see him after breakfast?”

“Yeah.”

 

Danny drifted back into consciousness, still slightly muddy from his pain meds. He turned his head to the side to see Steve sitting in the big chair next to his bed, with Grace slumped down asleep half next to him half on top of him, wearing a US Navy sweatshirt about two sizes too big for her. Steve smiled at him and gently shook her awake. She blinked blearily, then turned to him and grinned. “Hi, Danno.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This probably would have gone on a bit longer but I really need to go to sleep


	7. Therapy Tortoise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late, it's hot here and I didn't get enough sleep night before last and my hormones are all over the place right now, and the combination basically sapped me of all motivation yesterday.

Sherlock was jerked out of his musings on the latest case by muffled noises from upstairs. He frowned as he processed the reality of the world around him, then rushed upstairs as the noises continued – from Joan’s bedroom. He practically burst in the door, the only thought going through his head some approximation of a flashing neon danger sign. He skidded to a stop as he processed the absence of anything abnormal or anyone in the room other than Joan, asleep but breathing hard. Her fist jerked up next to her head. Sherlock hovered in the doorway, unsure what to do. She was usually left relatively free from nightmares, so he’d never asked her. He moved forward and hesitantly touched her shoulder, ready to duck – which was good, because she twisted to face him, and swung at roughly where his head had been, before she woke up. She pulled herself up and did a sweeping scan of the room before looking back towards the door. “Sherlock?”

“I heard noises. I didn’t know…”

She sighed. “No, I’m glad you came up, thankyou.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Her lips quirked. “Yes, actually, if you can stand it.”

He walked over to sit next to her on the bed. “Of course. I mean, I know about talking helping, that’s the basis of meetings.”

“Yeah. I’ve been having nightmares about – well, about everything surrounding your father.”

“Well, I can sympathise with that.”

She ignored his attempt at humour. “Actually, I don’t want to talk about it, but I probably should.”

“Tomorrow?”

She tilted her head back and hummed in agreement. “Do you know where Clyde is?”

“He’s down in the kitchen, I presume.”

“Were you working on the case?” she asked, heaving herself off the bed.

“Yes. I could use your help now, in fact.”

“Alright, just let me get Clyde and I’ll come in.”

Sherlock followed her downstairs. “You know, I’ve never heard of a therapy tortoise,” he commented as she lifted Clyde out of his terrarium.

“Well, it’s not like we have any other animals around, and he is relaxing. Now, what was it about the case you wanted to talk about?”

“Well, Andrew may have been in another state at the time of the first murder, but his partner was ten minute’s drive away.”

“I thought we decided that he couldn’t have brought Jack into it.”

“Maybe. But…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am in a constant struggle to find a good way of making a written fade-out


	8. Caught, or, Why The Sweatshirt From Two Days Ago Smelled Like Danny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is short but in my opinion adorable, and I couldn't pass up the fact that I had actually written an ending considering the trouble I have with them.

“Danno, are you wearing Steve's shirt?”

Danny froze guiltily, then slowly lowered his hands from rubbing his eyes to meet the amused gaze of his daughter. “No...?” he lied.

She blinked at him several times and pursed her lips, then gestured towards his chest. “When did you join the Navy and grow 6 inches, then?”

He looked down at the knee-length faded blue sweatshirt. “I got Captain America’d for a brief period before you were born. We’ve never told you about it because the government made us sign a confidentiality contract, but I can’t hide it any longer. The secrecy’s been killing me.”

She smiled at him. “You can give it up, Steve already came down and told me.”

“What? How did you break the guy trained by the military to resist interrogation?” He frowned. “Also, how come you’re here? Not that I’m complaining.”

“Surprisingly easily. I mean, between you, Mum, and him, I was bound to have picked something up. Also, he looked deliriously happy, and Mum had tried to drop me off at yours this morning and you weren’t there, so she drove me here. Between those two things, it was a bit of a giveaway. And apparently he’s terrible at hiding things he’s happy about.”

“That fucker,” he muttered without heat.

She grinned. “So, should I call Aunt Kono so she and Chin can finally settle their bet?”

“Oh, please don’t. Actually you know what, I take that back, if you do it we won’t have to suffer through the teasing immediately following telling her. Go for it.”

“Nah, I’ll leave the honour to you two.”

Danny grumbled goodnaturedly at her and walked into the kitchen to make coffee. Grace followed him in. “So should I call Steve Dad now?” she mused innocently. “Father? Steve-o?”

“It is too early in the morning to be dealing with this. Go pull Steve out of the ocean before he has a freak-out.”

She shot a smug grin at him. “Fine.”


	9. Plum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay so Nancy Carter/the salt creature calls Bones 'Plum' in The Man Trap and I've always felt like that did not get enough attention by either the writers or the characters so here's my fix for that.

Jim put his drink down firmly on the table. “Okay, Bones, I have to ask. Why Plum? What aspect of you made your girlfriend decide to call you Plum?”

“Look at those cheeks,” Sulu said, reaching out a hand to squeeze them but getting his hand slapped away by the doctor in question. “Are those not the cheeks of a Southern plum?”

“Nah,” Scotty contributed, raising his glass. “It’s his other cheeks.”

“Oh god,” Bones groaned. “It’s an old Earth game, okay? Clues, or something.”

“Cluedo?” Jim asked.

“Yeah, you nerd. Anyway, she got a set of these reproductions of those old games and we were playing it and I chose to play as Professor Plum, and she laughed and called me her Southern plum, and I don’t know, it stuck.”

“Oh. That’s boring.”

“Yeah, I’m sticking with Scotty’s explanation,” Uhura agreed.

 

“Lieutenant Scott, Lieutenant Kahler, Doctor Plum, meet me in the transporter room.”

Jim swung himself out of his chair and paused as Spock called out to him. “Captain?”

“Hmm?”

“Dr. McCoy.”

“What about- oh shit. He’s going to tear me a new one. Spock, you’re beaming down with us, I need you to protect me.”

“Is that a – rational decision, Jim?” Spock asked with a slight quirk of his lips.

“Yes, it’s perfectly logical, come on.”

“Very well.”

 

“Plum, did you need the right-angled or the left-angled radoscanner?”

Bones’ head popped around the doorway and glowered at his head nurse. Christine smirked at him. “What are you going to do, doctor, drain the salt out of me?”

He glowered for another 30 seconds at maximum capacity, then said, “The right-angled,” and disappeared around the corner again.

 

Bones pulled the piece of fruit from the replicator and raised it to his mouth as he wandered towards the door. Suddenly, an anguished cry of “Noooo!’ arose from across the room, and he went to run towards it before realizing it came from an apparently uninjured Ensign Chekov pointing at him dramatically. “A cannibal,” he whispered. He looked down at the plum he’d been about to bite into and groaned, then walked out of the room, stubbornly ignoring the riotous laughter.

 

Bones looked around the rec room. Jim had asked if he could meet Spock and him there for dinner after their chess game, but they must be in some hidden corner. “We are over here, Plum,” a deep voice called out.

Bones stalked over to the corner, where Jim was about to declare checkmate, and vainly attempted to tower over them. “That’s it. This ends tomorrow.”

Jim grinned at him. “Sit down, Bones, and calm down.”

He raised a finger. “No. I will do the former, but I’m stopping Plum tomorrow. I have one nickname from one person I tolerate and that’s it.”

 

Jim swung around in the captain’s chair as Bones stalked onto the bridge and advanced on him, holding a hypo menacingly. “I’ve done everyone else on this ship in groups, but you’re last.”

Jim frowned at him, then glanced to the side at Spock, who nodded seriously.

“Promise me,” Bones said, looming over him, “that you will never again call me Plum or encourage said calling of me, or I’m using this on you right now, and all of your medical checks from now on, compulsory or optional, will be forcibly followed up with extra hypos.”

Jim closed his eyes, then looked up at him with a completely serious expression. “I promise. No more Plum. From now on, you’re just plain old Bones or McCoy. No longer a healthy fruit. We mourn the demise.”

Bones lowered his arm. “Good,” he said and walked away. Jim managed to restrain his laughter until the turbolift doors had closed behind him, and was then joined in muffled giggles by, excluding Spock, the rest of the bridge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set pretty soon after The Man Trap, but Chekov's in it. A mystery for the ages.


	10. Captain Tuval

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is kinda a sequel to Shenaniganless, or at least features the same OC. I've fudged timelines slightly, but Andorians mature faster than humans anyway so it basically works.

Jim sat straighter in the captain’s chair as they approached the other ship.

“The _Curiosity_ is signalling us, Captain.”

“Pull them up, Lieutenant.”

The bridge of the science vessel and the face of its Andorian captain appeared on screen. “Hello, Captain Kirk,” she said with a smile.

“Captain Tu-. Captain Tuval!”

She inclined her head. “Yes?”

“Your _shreya_. Ambassador Sh’Kar, right?”

“Well,” she smiled. “ex-Ambassador now, but yes.”

“We escorted her, years back. You were just a kid, and she left you with us for the day while she worked.”

Her antennae bent towards him and her eyes crinkled. “I suppose I may remember you personally were it not for your names being so widespread.”

“You were very young. You loved the stars, even then.”

“I suppose I picked a good profession, then.”

Jim laughed. “Yes, I suppose you did. Would you like to beam over with the information? I’m sure the rest of the crew would like to talk to you as well – Spock if only for your scientific knowledge!”

“I would love to, Captain.”

 

Jim and Tuval walked down the long corridors towards the viewdeck. “So, how did you get here?” he asked.

“By transporter,” she deadpanned.

Jim laughed. “Most Andorians’ sense of humour doesn’t exactly correspond with us humans.”

She shrugged. “Well, two of my parents stayed bonded after they had me and lived on a space station, and then of course Shrey was an ambassador, so I grew up around an interesting mix of species. People often get confused trying to place my cultural background.”

“What about your other parent?”

“Well, Zhavey was really more like a… a cool aunt, in human terms. Shrey, Char, and Thav were the ones who raised me.”

“Did you always know what you wanted to do?”

She ran a hand through the ends of her long hair. “Well, I always knew I wanted to work on a starship. Command and science came later. Science first, fairly immediately after I started proper study. Command was never really an active decision until I got offered the captaincy, I’d just happened to take a couple of courses in it as electives.”

Jim raised his eyebrows. “You must have done well, though, you’re a captain young.”

“Not as young as you were.”

“Touchè. I believe I’ve seen your name on a few papers in the big journals, though.”

She grinned. “Yeah, I got lucky enough to get a few big-name eyes focused on me during my study, so they helped me with that.”

“I think you’re underselling yourself. Spock’s informed that some of your study is groundbreaking. Usually informed me late at night when I was trying to get him to bed, so it must have been for me to have absorbed it.”

She waved a hand. “Well, I’m lucky _and_ smart, I suppose.”

 

“Oh,” Tuval let out a breath as she entered the brightly lit greenhouse, lined wall to wall with plants of all different colours and textures, Jim and Sulu following shortly behind. “This is beautiful.”

Sulu shone with pride.

She wandered over to the hanging plants and smiled fondly. “Hrunckals have always been a favourite of mine, if only for the rather narcissistic thrill I get from them,” she chuckled.

Sulu let out a bark of surprise. “You were very amused by the colour of them when I showed them to you back then.”

“Well, I appear to have been very consistent in general. My parents always say I was.” She turned around, doing a full sweep of the room, then looked back to Sulu. “Would you mind if I just sat in here for a while? Actually, you must send me the plans for the room if you have them, my CMO would love to have something similar on the _Curiosity_.”

Sulu grinned. “Of course. To both.”

Jim nodded at her. “I’ll get Spock to include the plans with the rest of the information for transfer.”

“Thankyou, Jim, Sulu.”

 

“Keep in contact?” Jim asked as Tuval stepped up to the transporter platform.

“Certainly. I’ve given your husband my details so he can send me some of his most recent research on the atmosphere of Kali Beta, but please feel free to contact me personally through them any time.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” he smiled.

She nodded and returned his smile, her antennae waving as she dematerialised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok (a) I got way too involved in Tuval's backstory but so be it, (b) some gratuitous Spirk references there, but honestly, unless explicitly stated otherwise or it's a Getting Them Together, you can safely assume Jim and Spock are together in all my Star Trek fics, and (c) I love the idea that with every upgrade of the Enterprise Sulu's greenhouse gets an upgrade until it's just like 'whoa'.


	11. First Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look my thoughts on the Class group can be summed up as 'Let them live'

Tanya glanced out the window, then processed the sight and turned back to it again. “Guys!” she exclaimed, gesturing out to it. “It’s snowing!”

Matteusz practically leapt out the chair he was slouched in, limbs flying uncharacteristically. The others followed him outside at a more sedate pace.

April held her hand out to catch the falling flakes and smiled. “The first snow of the season.”

Charlie poked hesitantly at the snow already built up on the trees outside and frowned.

“It never really feels like Christmas to me until the first snow,” April continued.

“It never feels like Christmas to me,” Ram quipped, arms wrapped around himself and attempting to rub warmth into his shoulders.

“The snow reminds me of Poland every year,” Matteusz said, accent thickening as he stared absently at the increasingly heavy fall as more students wandered out from the school doors. Charlie reached out to grasp his arm comfortingly, still distracted by the layer of snow now on everything around, including them, muting the usually bustling sounds of the school at break into comforting background noise.

Matteusz shook his head and placed a hand over Charlie’s, turning to him. “This is the first snow you’ve seen here? Was there snow on Rhodia?”

He shook his head. “The atmosphere was too hot. It’s a strange experience. I think I understand why people get so excited about it now.”

“I’m glad,” Ram interrupted, “But could we go back in now? It’s bloody freezing out here.”

“Well, I told you last night you should bring a _warm_ sweater,” Tanya sassed at him, pushing her toe into the snow.

“Yeah, while I was in the process of hanging up.”

“Too bad.” She folded her arms across her chest and suddenly dropped to sit in it, laughing.

Matteusz and April let out noises of surprise, then Matteusz laughed too and dropped down next to her, lying onto his back. Charlie stumbled as he let go of his hand, then looked down at them doubtfully.

“Come on, Charlie. Make a snow angel.” Matteusz encouraged, head half-buried.

He frowned, awkwardly and carefully lowered himself to lie down next to him, then chuckled. “Alright, this is pleasant, if rather cold. What’s a snow angel?”

April lay down too and demonstrated. “See, those are the wings,” she provided, then curled a hand around Ram’s ankle and jerked him down next to her.

“Aaaagghh,” he protested, shivering, but didn't attempt to get up.

She laughed at him, then turned to Charlie, who obligingly moved his arms and legs back and forth.

“Exactly!” Matteusz beamed.

Charlie smiled, and the others enthusiastically started making snow angels too, limbs crashing into each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I'll get up to date tomorrow, I went Christmas shopping today


	12. His Sparkling Personality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's face it, the most fun bit of House and Wilson coming out would always have been the team's reactions

 “It’s the guitar.”

“No, it’s the motorbike,” Thirteen countered.

House banged the door open, slumped down into a chair and swung his legs up onto the table. “You gossiping? Count me in.”

They all looked at each other. “Yeah,” Chase finally answered, “But it was about you.”

“Well then, I definitely want in.”

Chase pursed his lips, and the others remained silent.

House raised a finger. “Consider this: I can give you exclusive information.”

“Actually, I don’t know that you can,” Thirteen said.

He leant forward. “Okay, now I have to know.”

“Fine. We were discussing why Wilson ever decided to pursue a relationship with you in the first place.”

House leant back into the chair. “That’s definitely gossiping, not discussing. And obviously it was my sparkling personality. Duh.”

“I feel like you could have taken the time to come up with a more convincing answer before you came out.”

He leant back until the chair rested on its back legs. “Well, now I’m just offended. Besides, we were more concerned with the backlash from the Tritter types than the gossip of our employees.”

“Reasonable discussion,” Taub tried.

“Gossip.”

“Yeah, it’s gossip,” Foreman agreed.

“Okay,” Thirteen interrupted, “but you promised exclusive information, not sarcasm. So what did it for Wilson, huh? Did you just crack a particularly good one-liner one day and he decided to jump you?”

“Well, I can’t say for sure, but I’d guess the bailing him out of jail probably had something to do with it. Also I was young and handsome then.”

“That’s when you met him, not when you – wait.” Chase broke off. “You’ve managed to hide a relationship for over a decade?”

House shrugged. “Everybody lies. Anyway, we’re both men, no-one looks too hard. Even queer people, apparently,” he said, looking pointedly at Thirteen and Chase.

“Hey, I suspected from the start,” Thirteen protested. “You guys were never exactly subtle.”

“And yet.”

Chase didn’t even bother trying to defend himself.

“Alright,” Foreman took advantage of the break in the conversation. “As much as I’ve enjoyed having a good gossip with the other grandmas at the well, we are in fact at work and do in fact have a case. Could we get to it?”

House groaned. “Spoilsport. Fine, what is it?”

“13-year-old girl with petechiae, tachycardia, and sudden-onset dissociative seizures. ER ruled out all the normal causes.”

“Boring.”

“Nevertheless, your case.”

“Fiiiiinee, I’ll clean my room, dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love getting a chance to bust out even mild medical tech-speak.


	13. Pre-Arrangement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we have Basil's birthday fic, heralding that we are now more than halfway through. Side note to all readers: have fucking fun trying to place this in any specific time period.

“Hsss. I don’t like it.”

“Perhaps you should take human form, Crawly,” Aziraphale suggested.

“You think I’d like it more if I were taller?”

“No, I think that the humans are still rather naïve and may not enjoy the view of a human talking to a snake.”

“Oh.” He took the form of a rather outlandishly tall blonde man, then looked down at himself, sniffed, and shrank down to a more reasonable height.

Aziraphale stared at him thoughtfully. “I think you may look better with black hair.”

It shifted obediently, although the face underneath it assumed a rather grumpy expression. “It’s Crowley now.”

“Hmm?”

“My name. Crawly just doesn’t seem appropriate, especially if I’m to be stuck in this form.”

“Very well.” Aziraphale looked around thoughtfully. “I think I’d rather like a bookshop.”

“They don’t have them yet.”

“True. I suppose we’d better get on that.”

“We?”

“Well, I wouldn’t expect you to do the grunt work of it, but some subtle manipulation to bring them around to what I view as good, but your side may, with the right spin, see as wholly appropriate evilling, would be appreciated.”

Crowley frowned at him. “That almost sounds like you’re advocating for the use of our side’s techniques.”

“Only in the pursuit of good.” He shrugged. “And besides, didn’t we agree the whole apple debac – plan that landed us here seemed rather close to manipulation? And that was orchestrated by Himself.”

“Hey, I approve. Besides, a demon… friendly with an angel? The lines are all a little grey.”

“The lines may be grey but the areas aren’t.”

“What the fiery underneath is that supposed to mean?”

Aziraphale sighed. “It means I’m trying to agree with you and still be assured I’m doing good.”

“Mmm, don’t worry, you’re too unsure not to be.”

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Crowley hissed at him. They both fell silent for a moment.

“So, bookshop,” Crowley started. “Where do you want it?”

Aziraphale hummed. “Not here, I don’t like the vibe.”

“Well, let’s head north.”

“Alright.”

 


	14. 105 Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone on Tumblr screenshotted a scene where you see this painted on the wall outside the Hub proper, so.

Jack leant against the wall and stared at Ianto, who determinedly kept painting. “Okay, what are you doing?” he finally relented and asked.

“Painting ‘This staircase has 105 steps’ onto the wall.”

“Why?” he questioned when no further information was forthcoming.

Ianto put his paintbrush down on top of the can and turned to him. “Alright, you wouldn’t know, since you’re never the one to bring people down here through the Information Centre-”

“Wow, honey, that was passive-aggressive.”

“Since you’re never the one to bring people through the Information Centre,” Ianto persisted, “but at least 80% of the time people get to the top and say something along the lines of ‘whew, that was a lot of steps! I wonder how many there are?’. I got tired of it, so I counted them, and I’m now painting it here for the benefit of such individuals. And of me.”

“Well, if there’s one thing people have proven to be over the centuries, it’s predictable.” He frowned. “I did think there was 106 steps, though.”

Ianto sighed. “Did you just come out here specifically to ruin my day?”

“What? No. I love you? I did count them like 50 years ago, I might be wrong.”

“Why did you count them, anyway?”

Jack shrugged. “It was a really slow day at the office.”

He inhaled deeply. “You’re recounting them,” he said firmly, sitting down on the cold top step.

Jack sat down next to him. “Why are you in a bad mood?”

“What? I’m not.” He waved a hand. “I didn’t get enough sleep.”

“Come over tonight, I’ll make sure you sleep well,” the captain winked.

He rolled his eyes. “Go. Count.”

He leant to the side onto the wall and idly watched his greatcoat sway down the stairs, then disappear around the corner. He reappeared within ten minutes, and resumed his previous position leaning against the wall. “Okay, I counted going down and up, and you’re right, there’s 105.”

Ianto sniffed haughtily and picked up his paintbrush again. Jack moved the couple of steps between them and draped himself over his back. “You going to take me up on my offer of tonight?”

Ianto swatted at him. “Yes, you ridiculous flirt, I’ll come over,” he laughed. He could feel the smug grin from the man behind him, and turned to watch him saunter back inside the hub, then shook his head fondly. “Menace to society.”

“I heard that!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I know Jack is unlikely to actually say "Wow, honey," but the opportunity was too good to pass up.


	15. Terrible Hamburgers and Great Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay this is actually one of my favourites so far, even though I think the voices might go a bit wonky at the end. Kono would definitely be the one behind any such orchestration.

Danny fidgeted with his fork, attempting to hear the conversation of the table next to them over the muted background chatter and the soft jazz. Eventually he gave up and redirected his attention to Steve, sitting across from him. “Remind me why we’re here again?”

“Because our friends are overly involved with our personal lives?” he suggested, looking extremely uncomfortable being in such a setting without a mission.

“Way over-involved,” Danny agreed. “Did you see the wine list? It’s about 2 metres long and I’m pretty sure the sommelier – which is a whole other issue – would actually be necessary to navigate it.”

Steve hummed in agreement, scanning the restaurant again.

“I mean, I could see the validity of this ridiculous setup for like, maybe, a 10-year anniversary,” he continued. “Even one year would be vaguely understandable, I guess. But we’ve been together one month. One month. How did we manage to talk them out of the coming-out party but not this?”

“I think we used all our available Kono-persuasion on that,” Steve replied absently, switching his focus between the elegant glass-and-bronze doors and the suited waiters moving around the room.

Danny snorted. “We should have saved it.”

“Yeah.”

He followed Steve’s gaze and jumped. “Oh shit, the waiter’s coming. Have you actually looked at the menu?”

“Oh. No.”

“Well, quick, pick it up,” he said, following his own instructions. “Maybe if he sees us reading he’ll go away.”

Steve obliged, and stared in horror at the text that presented itself. “Oh, that’s just wrong.”

“If you’re saying that…” Danny actually read the menu he was holding and pulled a face. “They’re just adding ingredients for the sake of adding ingredients, that’s a terrible thing to do. And have you seen the servings? They’re tiny. I hate high culture.” He looked up. “Oh, he’s gone away, thank god.”

Steve put his menu down. “I think if we go through those tables,” he said, pointing, “and around the bar, we might be able to get out without having to talk to any of them.”

“Okay, what do we tell Kono?”

“The truth? Maybe that way she won’t get the team to orchestrate it again.”

“I am hungry, though.”

“I know a diner near here that serves burgers that are really bad but taste really good.”

“Sounds good.” Danny stood up. “Let’s go.”

They’d just started to breathe easy as they rounded the bar, when the host stepped into their path. They glanced at each other and attempted to split to go around him, but he appeared to spread himself enough to block that without actually moving. “Sirs,” he said smoothly. “If there was any way you were dissatisfied with the service tonight, I will be happy to remedy it.”

“No, we’d just like to go now,” Steve attempted.

“But you have not even tried the, I assure you delicious, food. If you would just return to your seats? May I help you with anything?”

Danny threw a glance to Steve, then faced the host. “Yes, ah, see, me and my friend here, yeah, we're going to go eat terrible hamburgers and then have great sex.” He raised a hand. “Excuse me, bye.” He grabbed Steve’s hand with his other and pulled him past the host and out the door and into the breezy warmth beyond before he collapsed into nervous giggling, shortly followed by Steve. “I have never-” he gasped. “I have never said the words ‘sex’ or ‘hamburgers’ to anyone dressed that fancily before.”

“What was it like?” Steve laughed.

Danny nodded. “Pretty thrilling.”

They both straightened up.

“So, terrible hamburgers and great sex?” Steve suggested, holding out a hand.

“Terrible hamburgers and great sex,” Danny agreed, taking it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I was watching Gilmore Girls so I think they might have started sounding slightly like Luke and Lorelai towards the end there (Danny's Lorelai and Steve's Luke, obviously). Also the host seems kinda Hotel California but just roll with it. Also spoilers the team knew they'd hate it but they're all assholes and wanted to know what they'd do.


	16. Luke's Drawers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is not the normal style. It's kind of a mix between what would usually be here and the stuff I post over at Tributes but here it is.   
> The guy who kept the horoscope for years is definitely the same guy who would have a drawer full of sentimental shit he's saved.

**_Top Drawer – Useful Stuff_ **

**Extra notepads** – Whenever he tries to store them in the actual diner, they end up disappearing, getting water-warped, being stolen, or, on one memorable occasion, catching on fire.

 **New pens** – He attempts to keep them organised in one side of the drawer, but it’s a hopeless affair.

 **Condoms** – Jess came across them when searching for a phone cord one time and ragged on him about his organizational system for a week. To be fair, he has reached in for one and come up with something else an uncomfortable amount of times.

 **Duct tape** – The fix-all.

 **Chocolate** – He never puts it there. He knows it’s Lorelai, but she refuses to admit it.

 

**_Middle drawer – Crap (Possibly useful stuff, Lorelai insists. It’s crap)_ **

**Empty pens** – About once every six months he gets around to throwing them out, but he manages to build up an extraordinary amount of them in that time.

 **Dog treats** – he ends up getting them every extremely rare time Paul Anka comes over, then by the next time it happens they’re out of date.

 **Pipe-cleaners –** he has no idea why he has them, but there they are.

 **That one sock that got ripped two years ago** – he’s going to mend it one of these days. Really he is.

 

**_Bottom drawer – Sentimental things_ **

**Beaded bracelet –** The very first piece of jewelry Liz made, when she was 6. She presented it to him and then forgot about it completely. He thought he’d lost it when he moved above the diner, but found it wrapped up in one of the shirts he never wears before he completely panicked.

 **Terrible drawing of… a lion? probably? –** From one of the only times he’d seen Liz and Jess when he was a little kid. Jess had shyly said hello to him when he’d arrived, then retreated to his bedroom. When he’d been about to leave, Liz had gone to try to get him to say goodbye, and had come out _sans_ Jess, but holding the drawing, saying that Jess had asked her to give it to him.

 **Collection of pressed Thanksgiving flowers** – The real reason he still hasn’t bought a vase for them. He has at least one from every year Lorelai’s brought them to him, which adds up to a lot by this point.

 **Christmas cracker paper crown** – Rory was 4, and had invited him over on Christmas day, which he’d politely declined, assuming Lorelai might not want him there. On the 27th, they came into the diner and Lorelai lifted her up so she could put the flimsy yellow crown over his baseball cap, explaining that she’d saved it for him because he couldn’t come over.

 **Silk scarf** – The one item of his mothers he managed to keep when his father, in grief, got rid of almost everything. It smelt like her for years, and even though that scent’s long gone now, when he pulls it out he can still imagine it.

 **Ocean-smoothed stone** – When he was a kid, just after Liz had been born, he and his mother went to the beach by themselves. He brought the stone back for his father, who had kept it by his bed ever since. He walked into his father’s room the day after his funeral and broke down on his bed. When he’d cried himself out, he started packing up his things. They mostly ended up spread between Liz, storage, and op-shops, but he kept the stone with him.

 **Yale Daily News article** – the first that Rory wrote. He must have read it at least a hundred times by now, and put a clipped-out copy in the drawer almost immediately.

 **Wooden boat figurine** – He woke up on the morning of his birthday the year Jess was staying with him to an empty room, but when he rolled over, a small, intricately hand-carved boat was sitting on his bedside table. Neither of them ever mentioned it to each other. He kept it out on his bookshelf for a while, but put it in the drawer when Jess left. When he went to pull it out again, he became worried that it might knocked over and some of the very thin parts would break, so there it stayed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Thanksgiving flowers vase thing is kind of an obscure reference since it was only in one episode (A Deep-Fried Korean Thanksgiving), but I figure anyone who ships them will probably remember it, and it just really stuck for me.


	17. Nickname Attempts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue-only pieces are honestly such a relief to write for me. And yes, the first bit is lifted verbatim from La O Na Makuahine.

“Boo-boo is, it’s a term of endearment.”

“If you’re going to give me a sidekick name, a ridiculous sidekick name, I should be consulted first!”

“Okay, so bears are out.”

“Bears are out.”

“Hey, honey, can you check this guy out?”

“Already have. He has a rap sheet a mile long, but he was also in a prison cell on the mainland for a D&D at the time. And food items aren’t allowed either. Especially those associated with bears.”

“You’re really limiting my options here.”

“Deal with it.”

 

“Okay, look at this way, love.”

“Whoah-oh, hold up. Not only is whatever point you’re about to make in favour of the name ‘Smidge’ for Jerry’s parrot almost certainly invalid, but ‘love’ is also most definitely never happening.”

“What’s wrong with love?”

“Well, mostly the fact that it makes me feel like a waitress in a British pub getting hit on by a 60-year-old.”

“Are you saying I won’t be able to hit on you in a British pub when I’m 60?”

“Well, for one thing, I will also be 60 then, and for another, I will neither be female nor your waiter.”

“That’s a ‘no, you’re not saying that,’ right?”

“Yes, you can hit on me in a British pub when we’re 60; no, you cannot call me ‘love’.”

“Okay, so Kono and Grover, beers, Chin, vodka martini, Max, margarita, and Jerry, g & t. What about you, darling?”

“Well, I was going to say beer, but I need something stronger now to wipe that memory.”

“Darling is a completely unobjectionable pet name!”

“ _Obvi_ ously not, since I’m objecting.”

“Well, why?”

“For reason number one, you can refer back to our love conversation. As for the second, we’re not actually a 20-year-married middle-aged suburban couple.”

“What?”

“‘Fire up the barbecue, darling, the guests will be arriving soon!’ ‘Only if you’ve started on the salad, darling!’”

“Okay, this is very amusing-”

“And to be fair to Steve, you kind of are-”

“But if you could maybe continue this after you’ve got the drinks?”

“Sure. Whad’ya want, Danno?”

“Oh, get me a beer.”

“Hey, what’d you do with the tomatoes, sweetheart?”

“They’re on the left bench.”

“…”

“Hang on, are you okay with sweetheart?”

“Yeah, sure. That’s what Rachel used to call me, after going through the same process of elimination, albeit a lot quicker.”

“You couldn’t have told me this earlier?”

“Hey, you’re the one who didn’t think to ask my ex-wife, babe.”

“Hmph. Dinner’s ready.”

“Coming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone got the reference to the real cast, well done, that was pretty obscure


	18. Babysitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rory's probably like 1 here. Refer to the reference to Luke and Rory in the tags.

 

“Please,” Lorelai begged. “There’s a function at the inn, and Mia needs me there and I need the money, and Sookie’s swamped by it too, and Babette and Morey are out of town, and Miss Patty’s in the middle of finalizing her divorce papers, and-” She sucked in a breath. “And basically someone needs to look after her and I’ve run out of options.”

“I’ve got a diner to run,” Luke pointed out, waving a hand behind him.

“Yes, but only for another couple of hours and then you can shut, and you do have employees, and I’m sorry, I feel awful, but there really is no-one else I can ask at this point.”

He frowned. “Why do you feel awful?”

“Well, I know you don’t really like kids, and you like to be in active control of the diner at all times.”

“Yeah, but it’s Rory, I like Rory. And if there’s no-one else you can ask, I’m glad you’d come to me.”

Her face lit up. “So you’ll do it? Thankyou, thankyou.”

“Well, that wasn’t exactly what I…”

“I’ll be back to get her by 9, 10 at the latest. She’s had lunch already, she’ll need dinner but she’ll basically eat whatever you’re having unless it involves grapefruit or a lot of red meat. Uh, she should go to sleep by 6:30, but if she refuses that’s alright, just make sure she’s down by 8 or she’ll be horrible tomorrow. Is there anything else? I think that’s it. Anything else, Rory?” she asked, craning her head back to look at the toddler she was carrying. Rory just stared at her with wide eyes. “If you have any problems just call the inn, I’ll make sure to tell Michel you’ve got her so he’ll definitely put you through. She should be fine though. Thankyou so much.” She handed her over to Luke, who took her slightly vaguely.

He raised a hand as she left in a blur of movement, then looked at Rory. “Well, I guess it’s just you and me, kid.”

She babbled at him.

 

Rory tapped on one of the till keys from her spot on Luke’s lap sitting on the stool he’d taken behind the counter and giggled. He smiled at her. “Yeah, these keys are fun, aren’t they?”

Nora, his best waiter, nudged him as she moved behind to put orders up. “I think you two are attracting customers.”

“Think we should make her a regular attraction?”

She laughed. “Definitely.”

“Look, Cesar, I am taking care of a child. See? Child?” He gestured to Rory, who was inspecting the cupboard handle with great focus from his arms. “You can’t be dragging me into the kitchen just because one of the burners isn’t working. You still have five, and we’re only open for another half an hour. I’ll fix it tomorrow.”

“Eh, fine,” Cesar said, raising an arm. “Just don’t blame me if we get behind.”

“We’re not going to get behind in the next half hour.”

“Sure, whatever.”

Luke shook his head. “Come on, Rory.”

“Gee, sleep sounds fun, doesn’t it?” Luke tried, walking around his apartment holding Rory to his chest. A distinctly complaining sound emanated from right near his ear. “Come on, honey, it’s-” he checked his watch. “7:30. If you don’t go to sleep in the next half hour, your mother’s going to murder me. You don’t want that, right? You like me? You like the diner at least, and that might very well collapse if I’d been murdered. Hang on.” He bounced her slightly and moved towards the door. “Do you want to go downstairs? You’ve never been up here, this is a new space. Alright, come on,” he said, struggling to lock the door behind him while holding her. Eventually he managed, and walked downstairs. As soon as they moved through the curtains, she stopped wriggling. He went to sit down in Lorelai’s habitual table in the window and continued to bounce her. “I’d sing to you, but my singing voice is awful,” he murmured. “Anyway, I don’t know what songs you like…” he trailed off as she slumped against him, and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hey,” Lorelai whispered as he opened the door. “It’s a good thing you were down here, I hadn’t thought through coming back.” She took Rory and patted her back gently as she murmured. “Did you realise that, or…?”

He shook his head. “No, she just refused to go to sleep until I brought her down here,” he replied in a similiarly lowered voice.

“Oh.” Her eyes crinkled. “Makes sense. Thankyou again.”

“No, she was fine, it was a pleasure.”

She smiled softly at him. “I’m sure you’re exaggerating, but thankyou anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Presuming you still need coffee in 10 hours time.”

She suppressed a laugh. “I’d say that’s a guarantee.”

He nodded. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”


	19. *shrugging noise*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This has no semblance of plot, it's just a snapshot.

"Coffee?"

Lorelai smiled slightly grimly at him as she slid onto a stool. "Please, Luke-God. I am in dire need."

He grunted in acknowledgement as he poured, then grabbed plates of food and headed out to the tables. Lorelai downed three-quarters of it in one go and turned to watch his back. She held her cup out hopefully as he came back.

"Hang on a minute," he grumbled. "In case you hadn't noticed, I do have other customers." He grabbed more plates and left again. Lorelai swiveled round and looked at the full tables, tuning in to the chatter around her for the first time. "Huh. Actually, I hadn't. It's like the Mos Eisley in here. Any handsome smugglers around?"

Luke snorted and picked up the coffee pot with a questioning look. She eagerly held out her cup with both hands. "Yes, please. No lectures about my caffeine intake?"

"Too busy," he tossed back, heading out again with more plates.

"Oh. Shame. I could do with some stability right now."

He sighed as he came back around, then leveled his patented Luke not-quite-glare at her as he refilled her cup again. "One of these days you're going to have a heart attack, and it'll be nobody's fault but your own."

She perked up. "Thankyou!" she replied brightly to his back as he went down to the end of the counter.

He waved a hand over his shoulder. “Hmph.”

Lorelai wrapped her hands around her cup and watched him moving around, some of the tension in her shoulders releasing. He came back round and leant on the bench, peering at her. “You alright?”

She sighed. “Yeah, it’s just been a topsy-turvy day. Michel was nice to me and I still haven’t figured out what he wants. Sookie was snapping at everybody, not just kitchen staff who stuffed up. Rory didn’t answer when I called her.” She smiled at him. “But it’s good to know you’re always here.”

He placed a hand on her back quickly as he moved back out with more plates. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a CUTE snapshot. Ha. I swear I've written no angst this year, after actually warning for it.


	20. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally something with at least some low-level angst comes along

Wilson walked up to the grey marble headstone and carefully lowered himself to sit on the damp ground in front of it. The smell of wet grass and the bouquets of flowers permeated the air. Both being doctors, they’d had conversations contemplating their deaths before, and he’d been made to promise never to waste flowers by placing them on her grave. He’d been tempted to do it anyway a few times, mostly on anniversaries, but every time he couldn’t help but think of her angry ghost lecturing him about it, and he’d refrained.

“Hi, Amber,” he said, his voice breaking the silence instilled by the trees surrounding the graveyard. “I know I haven’t been around for a while, I’m sorry. Life’s been busy. House did something stupid and landed himself in a hospital bed again, which really shouldn’t shock me anymore, but still every time my heart tightens. Which is… mostly the reason I’m here.”

He breathed deeply, his chest expanding and contracting. “I’m going to tell him. That I love him.” He waved a hand. “Well, no, he knows that. That I’m in love with him. Who knows how it’ll go down, but I guess I felt like I had to come and… I don’t know. Get your blessing. Which is stupid, I know, how are you going to give it, but I was always more mystically inclined than you. At least this way if something happens while I’m here, I can choose to believe it’s a sign.” His lips quirked. “I don’t know if you would have given your blessing anyway, I know you never liked House, you’re too similiar. Apparently I have a type. But I hope that if this turns out well, you would have been happy for us. Or at least for me.”

He looked down at the ground, then back up at the headstone. “I suppose I should go now, otherwise I’m just putting it off. I’ll come back tomorrow and tell you what happened.”

He stood up and rested his hand on the top of the cool marble for a moment, then sighed and turned to leave. A gust of unusually warm wind rustled through the trees and blew at his back, and he smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I trick anybody into thinking it was going to be House's grave until the female pronoun came up? Please tell me I did.


	21. Khilaat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay this is actually a scene from an entire novel-length plot I have outlined, which is why, well, that's what it seems like, but I'm extremely unlikely to ever actually write it and I love Khilaat, so here you go. For reference, she has a complicated backstory which involves her having been orphaned and mostly raised on Vulcan by adoptive parents.

Jim wandered through the mostly silent and empty corridors of the Academy, taking in the unfamiliar learning environment. There had been a few students exiting study rooms a ways back, but no-one for a while now. Which was fair enough - it was almost dinner time, and Jim was only waiting for Spock to finish looking over his father's computer. As he passed one of the many small libraries that were scattered throughout the Academy’s domed buildings, he opened the door and glanced in. There was a couple of students still in there, and he softly closed the door, only for it to open again a few seconds later, as he had started walking again, and a student to come out. He looked over his shoulder to apologise for disturbing them, and whipped around, his hand automatically going to his hip, where his... hip was, seeing as he was on shore leave. The young Klingon who had exited the library simply sighed and raised her empty hands in the air away from the book bag slung over her shoulder. “I'm a student, I'm not a threat.”

Jim slipped out of an active combat stance, but kept his guard up. “You'll forgive me I don't take your word for it.”

She shrugged. “Sure. I have to, or I'd be holding grudges against half the inhabitants of ShiKahr. Do you want me to get one of the other students studying for their exams to confirm, or would you like to ring one of my professors during their dinner?”

“That won't be necessary, just tell me your name and I can check it in the Academy records,” Jim said, gesturing to the screens lining the walls.

She smiled wryly, keeping her lips firmly closed over her teeth. “Hi, my name's-”

She was interrupted by Spock rounding the corner. The Vulcan took in Jim's combat-ready stance, and the Klingon's more relaxed but on-edge stance. He moved to stand next to Jim, laying a restraining hand on his outstretched arm. “There is no need for that, Jim,” he said softly, then raised his voice slightly and directed it at the Klingon woman. “I believe this is Khilaat, a student of linguistics and xenobiology here?”

She nodded. “That's me.”

Jim immediately relaxed and grinned sheepishly. “I apologise, then. As a Starfleet officer, I get a little jumpy around Klingons.”

“No, it's a common enough reaction.” She extended her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Jim grasped and shook it.

“People usually don’t stand down so easily, though.”

Jim gestured to his left. “This is Mr. Spock,” he said, as if that were self-explanatory.

She nodded. “Oh, I'm aware. Vulcans who turn down a place at the Academy are as famous as, apparently, Klingons who accept one. That doesn't explain why you took his word as truth.”

“Well, if you know who he is, you can probably deduce who I am-”

She nodded again. “Captain James Tiberius Kirk, I presume.”

“Yes, and you'll know I trust him explicitly.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I suppose so.”

“I do feel bad about the misunderstanding,” Jim said. “Could I make it up to you by buying dinner for you with us now? If that’s alright with you, Spock?”

Spock nodded. “I would be interested in hearing about your studies, Khilaat.”

She chuckled deeply.

“What is amusing?” Spock enquired mildly.

She assessed him, then replied, “Wanna know what you missed out on?”

He gained an amused expression. “I cannot deny that is part of the appeal of the conversation.”

She smiled, then looked back at Jim. “Yes, I would love to have dinner with you two, thankyou. For bragging rights if nothing else.”

Jim laughed, and the three of them walked back down the corridor. “Maybe you can help us with where to go then, I’ve only been to ShiKahr twice and it’s been so long since Spock lived here that he’s almost as useless as me.”

“Sure. There’s a great place a couple of streets away that should be pretty empty now. Can I just say, my best friend is going to lose her shit, in a very Vulcan way, when she hears I had dinner with Sch’n T’gai Spock.”

“I can sympathise with that.”


	22. Rest Of My Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey my guys my dudes I am exhausted but I think this is good

“They were driving an ice-cream van, Steven, it was not a high-speed chase. Or at least it shouldn't have been, except you're incapable of driving like a normal human being. Which I already know, so I really shouldn't be surprised when you proceed to almost kill both us and our car - my car. My car.”

Steve let his head fall back onto the top of the couch and groaned. “I can't believe I'm going to have to listen to you complain for the rest of my life,” he interrupted.

Danny froze with his hands in mid-air and blinked.

Steve lifted his head back up to look at him. “What? You were in the middle of telling me what a reckless driver I am. Again.”

He let his hands fall and shrugged. “I was basically finished anyway. More important, you just acknowledged I’m sticking around. You, the man with abandonment issues the size of Mt. Everest.”

“Agh.” He sank into the cushions. “Aren’t you supposed to, I don’t know, not draw attention to it in case it makes me retreat into them?”

Danny snorted. “Fuck that. If I’m proud of you, I’m telling you. Also you’re telling the psych next time we go or I will.”

“Do I have to?” he whined. “She’s going to make me feel like a two-year-old who managed to put the square in the right hole.”

“But maybe she’ll let us go less often,” Danny pointed out, sitting down on the table in front of Steve.

“Alright, fine,” Steve mumbled from where he’d managed to meld almost entirely with the couch. “Could we go back to my driving now?”

He shook his head despairingly and leant forward to pat him on the knee. “I don’t know why I put up with you,” he said fondly. “Yes, we can go back to your driving. Are you aware there is now a scratch down the side of my car from that unnecessarily adrenaline-fuelled chase? I would hope you’re at least aware that you’re paying for it. In cash and in concept.”

He slowly emerged from the cushions. “I was trained to drive in combat, and I still drive in combat most of the time.”

“Yes, yes you do. Unnecessarily.”


	23. Where Else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> my guys my dudes I am even more exhausted and have no idea of the quality of this. But three cheers for weirdly shaped family bonding.

Jess paused in his nervous pacing of the waiting room and turned to Luke and Rory, both hunched into the cold plastic chairs. “I’m sorry, this must be worse for you two, do you want me to sit down?”

Luke waved a hand and Rory gave him a small smile. “No, it’s fine. Movement’s good. Distracting, you know?”

“Well, it’s good to know I’m being useful, not just annoying.” He sighed. “Actually, I’m going to go get coffee. Rory?”

“Please.”

“Luke, do you want… something healthier?”

He snorted. “No, coffee’s about the level I’m at right now.”

Jess squeezed his shoulder. “Okay. I’ll be back soon.”

 

He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot as he stood in line at the hospital café. It was warm down here, but that was about all it had going for it, considering the amount of people and the time it was keeping him away from upstairs. He blinked and pulled himself back to earth enough to order when he realised that he had reached the start of the line, then zoned out again as he leant against the wall in the corner and waited for them to call his name.

 

“Where’s Rory?” Jess asked as he walked back into the waiting room, rearranging the three warm coffee cups in his hands so that Luke could take his.

“Here,” Rory said, reentering from the door across the room. “She’s in Recovery, they took me in just after you left,” she explained as she took her coffee with a nod of thanks. “She seems alright, she’s just completely crashed out. But they said that’s normal. And Paris said to expect that when I called her earlier. They’re moving her to a normal room now.”

Jess gave her a one-armed hug and they both sat down in the chairs next to Luke. They sat in silence, Jess and Rory leaning on each other, Luke and Rory’s hands resting on each other’s arms, until the doctor came in.

“Alright, she’s still drowsy, but family can come in now. Are you all…?”

“Husband.”

“Daughter.”

“Uh… nephew-in-law slash almost son-in-law?”

She frowned at him and he shrugged. She raised her eyebrows. “Well, if it’s alright with her, I suppose you can all come in then.”

 

Luke sat down in the chair next to her bed, and Jess and Rory stood on the other side. Luke took her hand, and she blinked awake. “Hey, guys.” She coughed.

They all relaxed slightly, and Luke took another sip of his coffee, only to make a disgusted face. “Oh god. I don’t want that any more.”

“Give it to me,” Lorelai suggested.

“No way.”

She chuckled hoarsely. “You always thought it was going to be a heart attack that landed me here. I proved you wrong, didn’t I?”

“Well, excuse me if I didn’t predict a gas main explosion,” Luke pretended to grumble, a wide smile on his face.

She smiled back, then turned her head to look at Jess and Rory. “Here, you can sit on the bed,” she said, patting said bed.

“Are you sure?” Jess asked.

She waved a hand at him. “Yes, I’m sure. Come on, I’m not going to break.”

“If you’re sure.” They both gingerly sat down the bottom, and she reached down to squeeze first Jess then Rory’s hands with the one not still being held by Luke. “Thankyou all for being here.”

“Where else would we be?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literati is like Spirk in that it's automatic canon in anything I write. I'm actually not sure if they let anyone into recovery when you're an adult but due to previously mentioned exhaustion couldn't be bothered to find out.


	24. Holiday 'Party'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T'Paal is back for the grand finale! Except now she's a teenager. Or the Vulcan equivalent, y'know.

“You can’t just delay for long enough that we’ll leave without you, T’Paal,” Jim called out. “I’ve been with your sa-mekh too long for that to work on me.”

A distinctly unobliging silence rang out from the teenager’s room.

“I’m going to get him to come in and drag you out soon, privacy warning be damned.”

There was a sigh, then, “Very well. Would you help me with my hair, Father?”

“Oh, I’m ‘Father’ now, am I?” Jim asked in an amused tone as he went in. “You really got none of the neatness from Spock, did you?” he said forlornly, surveying the clothes strewn across the bed and rack.

“No, that particular set of characteristics got overridden by yours,” she replied with a twinkle in her eyes.

He shook his head. “You’d think I’d have gotten used to teasing veiled in Vulcan language by now, wouldn’t you?”

“Besides,” she added, turning back to the mirror. “My robes were at the bottom of my drawers, and I didn’t believe T’Pau would appreciate it if I came wearing jeans.” She picked up a strand of black hair lying on her forehead, then dropped it again.

“On the other hand, it would be hilarious to watch. And I can’t believe she’s holding a holiday party in the first place, so who knows, maybe she’s loosened up in her old age.”

“Her old age has been going on for the last five decades. Anyway, this is less a ‘party’ and more a diplomatic function because she knows she’s on bad terms with Starfleet.”

“True. What did you want me to do with your hair?”

“I don’t know, something boring and traditional.”

He laughed and started one of the many small plaits integral to the styles. “Careful, she’ll think I’ve infected you with contractions.”

“Well, you rather have.”

“I don’t think raising you counts as infecting you. And she doesn’t like me anyway, I don’t need another strike, considering she is Spock’s… whatever. Grandmother. Great-aunt. Whatever she is.”

“Matriarch,” T’Paal suggested.

“That’ll do.”

“It’s not as if she likes Sa-mekh either,” she pointed out. “Our whole family is more or less permanently on her ‘avoid if possible’ list.”

“Unfortunately, avoidance is not on the books tonight.” He wound the beads on her table through the style he’d created, then stood back. “Good?”

She shrugged. “I think so. We need to leave now in any case.”

“Yeah.” He held a hand out and she stood up and took it. “Time to go be proper.”

“Or hide behind Sa-mekh.”

“I prefer that option.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou to all readers, kudosers, and especially commenters. Hopefully I'll see you all next year!


End file.
